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"Alexandria." So Milton has "Euphrates" and "Euphrates.""We should speak in the way we can be best understood," he observed to me. He liked open straightforward simple language. Requesting me one day to close the window-blind, the sun coming in, while we were conversing on the advancement of knowledge in modern times, and he was observing that it might be retarded, but could not be stayed: "It is a moral impossibility," I said, "to shut out the light," as I moyed the window-blind. Physical," said he, supposing I alluded to the window. "No; moral," said I, alluding to our conversation" I spoke of knowledge." Metaphorically then?-nonsensically!" he observed. Talking on the same subject one day with a brother clergyman, and glorying in the increase of knowledge, he said, "I was born fifty years too soon; I am not understood." By this I imagine he meant that his ideas were too much in advance of his time for those who did not know as much, and see as far as he did, to comprehend him.

He told me he had a wish, from a boy, to visit Italy, when I mentioned to him my intention of doing so. He said he had desired it when his circumstances and occupations would not allow him; he felt in his latter years he was too old for such a journey, and blamed himself for having neglected one opportunity of doing it. "Now I shall never see it," he said with a sigh; yet no one should die before he has seen Italy: go, go."

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Speaking of the writer of the Life of Young, in Johnson's Lives of the Poets, I asked if he knew him. He said he did; that Johnson filled him with a false and inflated idea of his talents, which were never worth any thing." "Croft," said he, was a poor writer, and knew little; he should have kept at the law, he would have done for that; he was the victim of his own vanity."

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Of Landor, the author of "Imaginary Conversations," on being asked how he liked his book, he replied, "Clever, but wild-very wild, like the author."

I knew a singular instance of his stern regard for whatever his conscience whispered him was his duty. From a firm, manly, open, and candid conduct, nothing could deter him. He told me he was in considerable difficulty about his own conduct to Cobbett, who had come at that moment to Coventry to canvass for a seat in Parlia ment. "When I was in Hampshire some time ago," he observed, “I was entertained at Mr. Cobbett's, whom I thought a clever writer, and a firm friend to freedom; I have since had ample ground to change my opinion of him and his principles; I would rather not hold any more intercourse with him; but I was hospitably received by him, dined at his board, and drank his wine. Is it right for me to refrain from noticing him, or to refuse him the hospitable reception which, as a man, he gave me, should he call upon me here? And should he not call, being in my neighbourhood, ought I not to tender him my hospitality?" I said I thought it was a perplexing question to answer. He finally determined, as he expressed it, "to do as he ought;" and I believe he sent an invitation to Coventry, which Cobbett declined, and which relieved Parr from his dilemma.

I must here close these desultory recollections of this singular man for the present, promising to resume them.

EUTHANASIA OF TASSO.

OH would I were laid where my fathers lie,

With a heart as the damp earth o'er me cold-
That my grate were changed for the free blue sky,
And my cell were under the fresh green
mould!

How sweet to rest in that silent sleep,

Never more of earth and its griefs to dream,
While unfelt the tears of the night should weep,
And unseen the smiles of the day should beam!
How happy to rest in that sacred sleep,
Till awoke to a life, beyond the sky,
Where the sower in tears in joy shall reap,

And for ever be mute the mourner's sigh!
Oh, I never will breathe my farewell breath,
Like the world I scorn, and its heartless throng;
But on the green brink of the river of death,

I will die, like the swan-as I lived-in song!
Even then, even there, though the ebbing of life
May permit not a sound from the lip to stir,
Yet with music my spirit will all be rife,

And the hymn of the dying shall rise to her!

With that vesper of love thrilling all within,

And the roses of hope breathing balms beside,
Oh rapture to sleep in the trust to win

For ever-for ever-my heart's lone bride!

PRESENT STATE OF PARTIES IN GREAT BRITAIN.

J.

"Do you not think, my dear,”—said Mrs. Stubshaw to her "loving spouse," taking an artist-like advantage of one of those "mollia tempora fandi," (whatever they may be) in which husbands are for the most part prone to be complying-"Do you not think, my dear, that it is high time we gave a party? It is absolutely necessary that we

:

should make some return to our friends for a whole winter's round of civilities and now that the girls are coming out,' we must (laying a particular emphasis on the word) do something to get them married. am sure you, too, would be infinitely more popular, and get on much better in your profession, if you would live a little more like yourself, and lay yourself out for making friends." To this exordium Mr. Stubshaw did not answer affirmatively, either from a habit of self-defensive refusal to all similar propositions, in the first instance; or because he did not perfectly sympathize in the matter with his chère moitié. Neither, however, did he absolutely say no; possibly from a well-founded apprehension of the "probo aliter" of Mrs. S. It is not very easy to explain precisely what answer he did make; but it bore no slight resemblance to the solitary ejaculation of a basse-taille hog, upon some unwelcome invasion of his share of the trough. The fair rhetorician therefore proceeded in her charge: "Why, Mr. Stubshaw, there are the Joneses, the Hickerthrifts, the Thoms, the Jenkinsons, the Badcocks, the Turnpennys, the Redtails, and a dozen of other families, to whom we owe I know not how many entertainments; and you must own it is exceedingly shabby to be always taking, and never giving any thing oneself. If you don't choose to live a little more gen

teelly, the girls may lie on our hands (I rather think she said lay,' but n'importe) to the end of the chapter. It need not cost us a great deal. A few cakes and lemonade-nobody gives suppers now, they 're quite out of fashion,-the fiddles, and half a dozen pounds of spermaceti candles, will be all you will have to pay for. The young man who did your picture, will chalk the floor for nothing; and we can borrow any thing we want from the tradesmen." It is not very easy to say what part of this conjugal oration made its way to the soft corner of Mr. Stubshaw's heart. Whether it was the general issue, as the lawyers phrase it, or the special plea, the utility or the cheapness, I will not undertake to determine. Perhaps, among the proposed invitees, there might be some individual of the feminine gender, whom he might be particularly glad to see: perhaps his vanity was tickled by the opportunity of exhibiting the aforesaid full-length portrait of himself, which had just come home, with a pink and peach coloured face, the head of a pot of porter for a peruke, and the hand hid in the breast of the waistcoat, after the manner of the Duke of Wellington on a sign-post. Perhaps it was only the desire to sleep that rendered the worthy gentleman compliant. You may tame any animal by depriving him of sleep. But, whatever was the cause, he did not repeat his grunt. "There never was a better time than the present," continued the lady, by whom silence was taken for consent, "for the two county members are in town with their families. The Dunstanvilles of Beaumanoir are staying at an hotel, in their way to the Continent. Besides, we can have the young lord that dines every where, and Lady Betty Lackland, who goes about with us in our carriage to parties, and who was so kind as to chaperon Kate for me when I was lying-in. Then there is our new acquaintance from India, Sir Josiah Rumpot Row, with his three sons, all marrying men; and your old schoolfellow, whom you have so long neglected-he, I mean, who was made a commissioner of Customs the other day. I'm sure that man might serve an old schoolfellow with Mr. Canning. At all events, his lady sees the very best company now, and, if she is vulgar, nobody minds vulgarity in a commissioner's wife." So many reasons for giving a party might have mollified even Moliere's miser, and the party was accordingly decreed. This point being carried, the next thing that suggested itself, was the fitness of the occa. sion for giving a snug little dinner, in order to secure the Lord Lickplatter, the Rumpot Rows, père et fils, and a body of hussars for the girls. The hussars, you know, do not dance under claret and venison. A dinner, too, was necessary to entamer a renewed intimacy with the commissioner. "Let me see," said Mrs. Stubshaw, reckoning her guests on her fingers' tips, as she spoke; "There are the two M.P.'s and their wives are four; Lord L. five; the Rumpot Rows five, make ten; Major Spinham, eleven; Cornet Fourcorners, twelve; Captain Lookandie thirteen, the Commissioner and his wife fifteen, and our two selves seventeen, for the girls need not dine below on that day. Who else shall we have? Let me see; suppose Mr. Splutter, eighteen; he who is called Conversation Splutter, because he lets nobody talk but himself. Then there's what's his name, the reigning dandy of last winter, who never opens his mouth but to gulp down a bumper or a spoonful of soup. He and that strenuous diner out, Hopthetwig, who speaks extempore verses, will just make twenty."-The uninitiated may per

haps imagine that there is a great want of keeping in this narrative and wonder how Mr. Stubshaw could begin with resisting a dance, and end by agreeing without struggle, to a dinner. But such is man! Not a wife in the whole parish of Bloomsbury but knows, that in most matrimonial struggles, c'est le premier pas qui coute, and that as a rat-hole will let in water enough to ruin a dike, so a woman, if she can once insinuate the point of her tongue into a crevice in her husband's obstinacy, will soon drive a coach and six through his opposition. D'ail leurs, Stubshaw liked a good dinner himself; he had a choice batch of claret in his cellar, that wanted nothing but drinking; and was possessed of a magnificent service of plate, with pompous inscriptions to his own praise and glory, from an insurance-company, whose charter he had professionally forwarded through a stormy opposition in the House of Commons. No difficulty therefore remained but to fill up the table. "Well," said Mr. S., advancing in his turn his claim to a nomination, "Won't you ask some of those friends to whom you say we owe so much. What say you to the Thoms, or the Turnpennys? There is no one sets off a party half so much as pretty Mrs. Jenkinson, with her bright eyes and her diamond drops." "Not the Thoms, my dear, this time. They go out four in family; and what can we do with two thin, hole-faced, ill-dressed idiots, taking up the table? The Turnpennys, indeed, might do ; but then he's deaf, and she is so affected, she'll give a mauvais ton to the whole entertainment. As for Mrs. Jenkinson, as she's your favourite, we'll have her by all means, if her husband's on circuit, but he, poor man, is absolutely not presentable.' I think the Dunstanvilles and dear Lady Betty would do much better. To be sure, Lady B. is a good soul, and would not mind being left out at dinner, if there was any body very particular to take her place. What think you of Sir Whirligig Logarithm. He talks mathematics to the blues, and fox-hunting to the philosophers, and is at every thing that is good. I should indeed prefer the Rev. Peter Plimpton, but he 'll certainly not come." "Very good, Mrs. Stubshaw, very good," said Mr. S., thereby meaning very bad; "you quite forget the Redtails, with whom we have dined three times running; and he, besides, is very useful to me in the way of business." "Oh, Mr. S., ask an attorney to meet such company, impossible! The poor creatures themselves, too, would know nobody; and then what will you do with his squinting wife, who will commit the false heraldry of placing flowers upon feathers, which go together as ill as her singing the Minstrel Boy does with the accompaniment she plays in one key in the bass and another in the treble. No, dear Stubby,-no Redtails, if you love me."

In this manner the Jones's, the Thoms, the Jenkinsons, the Badcocks, the Hickerthrifts, and the Turnpennys, were successively put in nomination, and rejected, for some mode or other of that constructional offence, mauvais ton, so difficult to define, so impossible to pardon ; Mrs. Stubshaw declaring that in-convenance was the greatest fault a person could possess in society; and persisting, with something like a show of reason, that the harmonizing of guests requires as much tact and nicety as the assortment of colours in the furniture of a room, or in a ball dress.-Nothing could be finer than the dinner, which followed, with the strictest nicety, the prescribed rules. Four chased silver winecoolers, dripping with dew, stood sentry at the four corners of the table,

while a detachment of two kept watch and ward over the pink and white champaign on each side of the plateau. There were two soups, white and brown, removed by a turbot and salmon, and these again by a stewed turkey, and a roast saddle of mutton. There were the usual côtelettes, and the customary patties. There was a fricandeau, bristling "like quills upon the fretful porcupine," with sweet-breads to match on the opposite corner. There were wild-fowl and game, and sea-kale and fondu and charlotte, and caramel edifices, which beat the tower of Babel or the new churches in Regent-street, "all Lombardstreet to an eggshell." Then there were ices and pines, and Crême de Peko and preserved ginger;-every thing, in short, which makes one dinner as like another as the daily courses of the mutton-eating collegers of Eton. Every body was fashionably late, except the dining lord, who was punctual-the dandy, who came in with the woodcocks-and Lady Seraphina Dunstanville, who did not come at all. For such a derangement of time and opportunity Mrs. Stubshaw's cook was not prepared; her mutton consequently was scarcely warm through; for, like the man who would have written a shorter letter if he had had more time, she would have roasted her meat enough, had she been more pressed for punctuality. En revanche, the woodcocks were burnt to a cinder, and the whole economy of the serving so deranged, as almost to verify Quin's sarcastic description of a dinner, of which he said, "the soup was cold, the ice hot, and every thing sour in the house, but the vinegar." Such being the physique, the arrangement of the morale was in perfect keeping with it. The most rigid etiquette being observed in the "order of their going" to the dinner parlour, the guests were not seated either according to previous acquaintance, or to the similarity of their tastes. Particular care, indeed, was taken that husbands should not sit near their wives, and that ladies and gentlemen should alternate, like beef and bread on a pile of sandwiches, but that was all. Thus" a gentlemanly and melancholy" silence prevailed, interrupted only by challenges to take wine, or a passing remark on the cookery, or the weather. Even Splutter, the never-failing Splutter, fixed between the common-place Commissioner, who took jokes à la lettre, and the vacant chair left for the dandy, and seated immediately opposite a large bouquet of flowers, overshadowing the plateau and cutting off all communication with the opposite side of the table, was for once thrown off his centre, and was reduced to the necessity of eating a sufficient meal, for want of any other employment for his mouth. Towards the close of the second course," Postquam exempta fames et amor compressus edendi;”—the broken whispers of tête-à-tête conversations might have been caught crossing each other somewhat in this manner"Perkins's steam-gun went off with"-" The governor-general, who ordered a detachment to lay siege to"-" Lookandie's whiskers; oh! our colonel ordered him on parade to shave"-" La belle Harriette's upper lip,""who was laying herself out to intrigue with"-" a detachment of Pindarees" -"A thousand pounds' worth of smuggled French silks"-" Fourcorners' new tandem,". "the returning officer and the mayor of Exeter"-"Tippoo Saib"- "Marshal Soult"--and " Louis dix-huit:" -an incessant accompaniment of the jingle of glasses, and the clatter of plates and spoons, as the servants cleared the table, preventing more of